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Skandha 10, adhyayas 38-40 · Saptah day 6
Sent by Kamsa to bring the boys to their death, Akrura rolls in the dust of Krishna's footprints and sees Vaikuntha beneath the Yamuna.
When the sage Narada revealed to King Kamsa in Mathura that Krishna was in truth the eighth child of Devaki and Balarama the seventh, transferred in secret to Nanda's cowherd village, Kamsa's terror turned to murderous calculation. Summoning his chief wrestlers Chanura and Mushtika along with his elephant-keeper, Kamsa staged a grand bow-sacrifice (`dhanur-yajna`) in Mathura as a trap. To bring the two boys into the city without arousing suspicion, Kamsa called upon **Akrura**, a noble elder of the Yadu clan, son of Shvaphalka and Gandi, and a devoted uncle of Krishna. Though serving in Kamsa's court, Akrura was a pure-hearted Vaishnava. At dawn in Chapter 38 of the Tenth Skandha (`10.38.1-2`), Akrura mounted his swift chariot and set out from Mathura toward Nanda's Gokula, his heart overflowing with reverent longing.
As the horses raced across the dusty road toward Vraja, Akrura spoke to himself in a long, ecstatic monologue (`10.38.3-23`) that reveals how a devotee approaches the presence of God. "What auspicious austerity have I performed," he wondered (`10.38.3`), "what charity have I given, or what great saint have I served, that today my eyes will behold Lord Keshava?" For a soul swept along in the river of birth and death, catching sight of the Lord is as rare as a drowning man finding a boat across the ocean (`10.38.5`). Today, Akrura thought (`10.38.6`), all the sin of his birth was wiped clean and his human form was made fruitful, because he would bow to the lotus feet that yogis meditate upon and that Brahma, Shiva, and Lakshmi revere.
Was it not possible that Kamsa had actually done him the greatest favour of his life by sending him on this errand (`10.38.7`)? Across the ages, kings of the royal line had cut away the darkness of existence Simply by seeing the radiance of the Lord's toenails (`10.38.8`). Soon he would see that face with its nose, cheeks, and smiling glance, framed by curling dark locks, and see the ground of Vraja stamped with the footprints bearing the lotus, barleycorn, elephant goad, and flag (`10.38.14-16`). Yet one doubt briefly crossed Akrura's mind (`10.38.17`): would Krishna look down on him because he had arrived as the messenger of Krishna's mortal enemy Kamsa? Instantly Akrura answered his own fear (`10.38.18-22`): no, the Lord stands as the Witness inside every heart (`kshetrajna`) and knows the true devotion hidden in Akrura's mind. When Akrura bowed with folded hands, Krishna would lift him up, embrace him in those mighty arms, call him "Uncle Akrura," and purify his entire household (`10.38.19-21`).
Arriving at the edge of Gokula as the sun sank toward the horizon (`10.38.24-26`), Akrura saw in the cow-pastures the footprints of the Lord marked with the lotus, barleycorn, and goad. Overcome with love, the hairs on his body standing on end and tears blinding his eyes, the dignified statesman of Mathura leaped down from his chariot (`10.38.25-26`) and rolled in the dust crying, "Ah, this is the dust of my Master's feet!" Entering the village at the cow-dust hour, he saw Krishna and Balarama—dressed in yellow and blue silk, garlanded with forest flowers, smiling among the cows and calves (`10.38.28-33`). Just as he had dreamed on the road, when Akrura fell flat like a rod at their feet (`10.38.34-35`), Krishna and Balarama pulled their uncle into a warm embrace, led him by the hand into Nanda's home, washed his feet, fed him richly, and sat with him into the night hearing the news of Kamsa's tyranny in Mathura (`10.38.36-43`).
The next morning in Chapter 39 (`10.39`), when word spread through the village at dawn that Nanda and the cowherds had loaded their wagons with pots of curd and butter to accompany Krishna and Balarama to Kamsa's festival in Mathura, grief struck the women of Vraja like a thunderbolt (`10.39.13-16`). Leaving their morning tasks unfinished, the gopis crowded around Akrura's chariot with pale faces, heaving sighs, and garments wet with tears.
Looking up at the sky and at the elder who had come to take their life-breath away, the gopis poured out their lament (`10.39.17-30`). "O Creator," they cried (`10.39.19`), "you have no mercy! First you bring living beings together in friendship and love, and before their hearts are satisfied you tear them apart like a child playing a cruel game." After showing them Mukunda's face—framed by dark curls, fine cheeks, a noble nose, and a smile that steals away all sorrow—making it invisible now was an act of utter folly (`10.39.20`). And look at this messenger (`10.39.21`): he is mercilessly taking away the child who is clearer to them than their own eyes, without even speaking a word of comfort, and yet he goes by the name **Akrura**—which literally means "Not Cruel"! Surely no man on earth was more aptly misnamed (`krurah samakhya-viparitavan asau`).
Look how hard-hearted Nanda's son himself had become (`10.39.22-28`): already seated on the chariot, surrounded by the elders setting out with their ox-carts, he did not turn back for them. Once the women of Mathura saw him entering their city with his playful smile and sidelong glances, how would he ever return to simple village cowherds (`10.39.25-28`)? Casting aside all modesty before their elders, the gopis cried out aloud, *"He Govinda! He Damodara! He Madhava!"* (`10.39.31`). Seeing them ready to give up their lives as the chariot rolled forward, Krishna sent back a messenger with the single, four-syllable promise: *"Agamishye"*—"I shall return" (`10.39.35`). Standing motionless like painted figures, the gopis watched until the banner of Akrura's chariot and the dust of its wheels vanished on the horizon (`10.39.36-37`).
By midday, the swift horses brought the chariot to the clear waters of the Yamuna at Brahmahrada (`10.39.38-40`). After Krishna and Balarama rinsed their mouths and hands and climbed back onto the chariot seat, Akrura asked their permission to take his midday bath in the river. Wading into the deep pool (`10.39.41`), Akrura ducked beneath the surface to chant the Gayatri mantra—and opened his eyes underwater to see Krishna and Balarama sitting right there before him inside the river (`10.39.44`).
Startled—How could the two boys have left the chariot so fast? (`10.39.42`)—Akrura lifted his head out of the water and looked back at the bank. There sat Krishna and Balarama on the chariot, talking calmly just as before (`10.39.43`). Thinking his eyes had played a trick on him, Akrura plunged back beneath the surface—and beheld a vision that took his breath away (`10.39.44-57`).
Deep beneath the Yamuna lay the thousand-headed serpent Lord **Ananta-Sesha**, white as the fibres of a lotus stem, draped in dark blue silk, his thousand hoods blazing with crest-jewels that lit the submarine realm (`10.39.44-46`). And seated at ease upon Ananta's lap was the four-armed Supreme Person, dark as a raincloud, wearing yellow silk, bearing the conch, disc, mace, and lotus, with the Srivatsa mark and the Kaustubha gem on his chest (`10.39.46-52`), surrounded by Sanaka and the Kumaras, Narada, Prahlada, Nanda, Sunanda, Brahma, and Shiva singing his praise (`10.39.53-55`).
Overwhelmed with awe (`10.40.1-30`), Akrura joined his palms beneath the water and sang a thirty-verse hymn of praise (`10.40`). He bowed to the primeval Person from whose navel sprang the lotus of creation (`10.40.1`), acknowledging that just as all rivers—whether straight or winding—ultimately flow into the single ocean, so every path of worship—ritual, yoga, austerity, or knowledge—ultimately leads to Him alone (`10.40.7-10`). Concluding his prayer by begging for shelter from the trap of household illusion (`10.40.28-30`), Akrura watched the Lord smile and withdraw the vision (`10.39.57`, `10.41.1`).
When Akrura climbed out of the river with a face shining in wonder, Krishna looked at him with an innocent smile (`10.41.2-3`): "Uncle, why do you look as if you have seen something extraordinary in the water, on the earth, or in the sky?" Akrura answered softly (`10.41.4-5`): "Whatever wonders exist in the earth, sky, or water all rest inside You; so when I am looking at You right here before me, what other wonder could I possibly see?" With that quiet exchange, Akrura took up the reins and drove the chariot toward the gates of Mathura (`10.41.6`).
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